Each room inside the artifact was a mirror of a memory.
Lyra found a chamber that looked like her childhood home—complete with her dog, long dead, wagging its tail without blinking.
Keene walked into an old lab where he'd once failed to save a patient. He stayed there for an hour, apologizing to nothing.
Nolan screamed when he entered his room. We never saw what was inside.
My room showed a version of the Vigilant where the walls bled light and everyone was still smiling.
I shut the door behind me.
The rooms responded to thought. You imagined a corridor, and it formed. You remembered pain, and it manifested.
The structure wasn't static—it was reactive. A neural reflection engine, Keene theorized. But I felt it was more than that.
It wasn't showing us our memories.
It was absorbing them.